


Apollymophobia

by LovelyMelody



Series: Fire Meet Gasoline [1]
Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Allusions to Sex Trafficking, Angst, Burnt alive, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Heavy Themes, M/M, death of a minor character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26108317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyMelody/pseuds/LovelyMelody
Summary: you've gotten a glimpse of the destruction you could cause, and it terrifies you.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Reader, Nightwing/Reader
Series: Fire Meet Gasoline [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973518
Comments: 2
Kudos: 32





	Apollymophobia

**Author's Note:**

> Requested on tumblr

“Just talk to me,” he pleads, airy and completely broken, “please.” It’s all too consuming if you allow the words to linger in your head for too long. “Don’t shut me out.”

He’s sweet. Too sweet. A good man, all too worthy, while you’re not. You’re not worthy at all. You’re not a good person. “I’m a monster,” is the only thing you can bring yourself to say, the only thing you’re thinking.

You’re a monster set for destruction, ready to break at any moment and lose control. Tonight proved what you always feared. You’re dangerous.

His hands are cold, a harsh contrast to your hot skin, but even so, it burns you, like dry ice; makes you flinch away from him as he tries to pull you close. He says your name softly, so sweetly. “You’re not. You’re not a monster—“

How can he stand there and say that? Sound like he means it when you killed a man tonight? Burnt him to a crisp without remorse. You killed him and at that moment, you didn’t care— _he deserved it_ , your raging fire whispered. _They all deserved it_. You allowed it to consume you, to let it take over all of the self control Dinah had taught and instilled in you over the years.

You didn’t hear the shouts of your teammates trying to pull you back to them. You only felt the hot searing heat as it engulfed your body completely, only felt your anger that simmered deep within your blood as the words the trafficker said repeated in your head: “They were all good money, sugar. Don’t regret a single thing.”

You reveled in his screams of pain, felt wicked satisfaction as he yelled and begged you to stop, enjoyed the blood curdling screams of the other demons that helped him steal young girls from their homes and sold them like they were cattle to the highest bidder. “If you didn’t stop when they begged you to, why should I?” you taunted them, laughed when one of them cried they had children.

You didn’t care. Why should you have? _They were monsters! All of them! Monsters!_

But the real monster is you, isn’t it?

Conner was right to be angry at you. You deserved his harsh words as he practically toppled you over with his brute force. “You almost killed M’gann!” You almost killed Kaldur, too, almost killed the whole Team. Nearly sucked the oxygen out of the whole room and endangered half of the Justice League who were waiting—watching.

You didn’t deserve Dick trying to take on Conner; Wally speeding to pull you out of another of Conner’s charges; Artemis defending you; or M’gann trying to take the blame.

“It wasn’t real,” Dick reminds you, trying desperately to tether you to him. And just like in the simulation that felt all too real (once more), he wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest, ignoring the risks (again). “You didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t hurt anyone.” But you did.

The sweat and weakened states of the Team as you were all pulled out of the simulation proves otherwise; the red faced, wincing Dick that immediately sought you out to make sure you were okay even though he willingly risked his life to ground you, proves otherwise; the erratic, greedy panting and gasping as Dinah and Oliver checked you over, proves otherwise.

“You don’t understand!” you bellow, pushing him away from you, needing him to keep his distance. “It felt real. It was real to me, Dick… I—“ A heart-wrenching sob escapes your lips and you wrap your arms around you, curling into yourself and refusing to meet his soft gaze. It’s too much. “I almost killed you—almost killed everyone. If it hadn’t been for you—if you hadn’t—“ you can’t even bring yourself to say it, can’t even allow yourself to think about it anymore.

_Soft words, familiar hands, a soothing presence—far away screams that sound so familiar. All jumbled up, but you somehow hear him. You hear his pained whimpers trying desperately to soothe you, you feel him card through your hair “I’ve got you, Phoe, I’ve got you.”_

“If J’onn and Nabu hadn’t done what they did—It felt like something inside of me was taking over, Dick. What if there’s something inside of me? What if it snaps and—and we can’t just be pulled out because the next time it happens, it’s real?”

He takes a step forward, reaching for you. “That’s not going to happen, I promise you—“

“How?” you demand softly, finally lifting your gaze to meet his pained, worried eyes and it makes your heart drop to your stomach, makes your knees buckle under their weight. “How can you promise that?”

“Because I know you!” He rushes forward, hands gripping your shoulders as if to shake you awake. But he doesn’t. He keeps you steady, upright, even when you’re both a mess of sweat and tears. “You’re not some monster or some pressurized balloon ready to burst. You’re not some hot headed pyromaniac—you’re _you_! Just you. _You_ , who wants to help everyone you meet. Who accepts Roy and Jim for who they were and have become. Who tries desperately to keep the Team together when we have our petty spats and listens to all of our complaints patiently. Who believes in me and my training. Who didn’t judge me for wanting to leave Robin behind.” He cups your face gingerly and tilts your head up, slowly brushing away the tears that won’t stop rolling down your face. “ _You_. Phoenix. My Phoe. My best friend. My dumb, overthinking best-friend, who I would give my life for, who would the the same for me.”

“In a heartbeat,” you whisper and he smiles crookedly, tears rolling down his red cheeks and over his chapped lips. And god—fuck, you did this. Your face scrunches and you throw yourself at him, nearly knocking him off his feet, but he somehow manages to keep you both upright. “I’m scared, Dick. I’m so scared.”

He kisses your hair, your forehead, anywhere his lips can reach without pulling you away from the crook of his neck. “I’ve got you, baby. I'm here for you. Always.”


End file.
